The Life & Times of Ariel LaRue
by Irelandlover
Summary: Contrary to Popular belief, me and Stiles, or rather, Stiles and I, did not fall madly in love when we were eight. It was more gradual, with late night arguments and being way too comfortable with over-sharing about sex dreams. He was Scott's Batman and I was his Robin. Stiles/OC. Seasons 1 and 2 of Teen Wolf.


**I've been stewing over this story for** _ **months,**_ **and finally decided to put it out there before I went crazy. For the people following my other Teen Wolf story** _ **Love Finds A Way,**_ **the next chapter will be up soon. So, New Year, New me! And apparently new stories. Word count: 10,727 Episode 1: The pilot.**

* * *

 _With his friend taken away by the sheriff, the boy was left in the woods alone. Where a murderer lurked in the shadows. He wanders away from the fading sirens, noticing that the forest has gone deathly quiet. A branch snaps, worrying him, had his friend escaped his father? It seemed unlikely._

 _More scuffling._

 _Out of nowhere a herd of deer come running toward him, leaping over head, he drops his inhaler in panic and dives into the dirt. When they pass, he grabs at the earth, looking for the one thing that will help his oncoming asthma attack. He grabs his phone, hoping some light will help him find it. He shouts when the light lands on a human face._

 _The dead girl, he and his friend had come looking for, and just as promised she was ripped in half. Dead, soulless eyes staring at him as her lower body started to attract flies. In his disgust he managed to feel sympathy. She was so young, in her early twenties just as his friend had said. Her life cut short by some sadistic monster._

 _He fell backwards down a hill, hitting tree's painfully on the way down, his vision blurred as his head slapped painfully off the ground. He pulled his aching body from the forest floor, wincing as his shoulders cracked. He'd definitely fractured, if not, broken something. Holding his side, he started to walk back the way he came._

 _No more than a few metres away, a figure watches him, the same beast that gave the girl a hemicorporectomy, watched_ him _. The boy left behind in the woods, his new Beta. A person to assist in his plight, ripe for the taking. Having a Beta equaled even more power, more power equaled dragging out the torture of those responsible. Without another thought the creature leaps forward, jaws snapping, eyes glowing a bright ruby red._

 _No one but the beast heard the boy's agonizing scream._

I put my pen down and read over my words. Beta? I don't write any supernatural stories, and if i did; never werewolves. Too overused. Too predictable. Too….Twilight, and on another note, I don't write angst, I'm more of a Rom-Com girl.

I push my notepad away from me, ten minutes of my life that I will never get back, wasted on wannabe-Twilight fanfiction, but it was like I _had_ to write it, like if I didn't, bad things would happen. But not to me. To everyone else...I shake my head at the thought, tying my hair back into a ponytail, it feels sloppy and lop-sided and I bet I look like an explosion of teenage girl clichés.

Frumpy, unattractive sweats? Check.

Messy ponytail? Check.

Face void of make-up? Check.

I snort, why everyone seems to think that _that_ is an adorable look in books and movies is a fucking mystery to me, but I'd accepted long ago that I have a face only a mother could love.

Luckily I have two of them.

My mind went back to my terrible story. Short and sweet, that's usually how I keep them and then they get packed away into boxes never to be read by anyone's eyes but my own. It drives my creative writing teacher crazy, but that's how I like them. I'm not about to start writing any novella's anytime soon, but this time, it feels wrong. Like the story isn't finished, the thought of packing it away fills me with dread, like it's just the beginning, the start of a long-winding tale that will cause nothing but anguish and hurt.

I stop my mind right there.

There is no way in freaking hell, that I am turning into Bella Swan after one short story, that may or may not have a werewolf in it.

But still...the thought of the next chapter; forms a lump in my throat and gets my hands all sweaty and my stomach falls into a Zumba routine.

My thought process was stopped once again.

But not by me, by the loud rapping on my patio door. I approach it slowly, already guessing who it is. A doe-eyed weirdo in plaid. A modern day prince charming.

I snorted as I pushed back my pink curtains. There he was, just as I had predicted, with his goofy smile and buzz cut. I was constantly telling him to grow it out, but he never listened, claiming how "airing" it was and how he was sure that "chicks dig it".

I raised my newly dyed, exceptionally shaped brow at him, he was bouncing up and down in excitement. Those who knew Stiles well enough, which was limited to the Sheriff, Scott and myself, knew that Stiles, plus excitement usually equaled to potentially life scarring stuff, and/or a broken limb. Faith, trust and pixie dust my _ass_.

Obviously seeing my reluctance to open the door, his grin dropped into a scowl. As if he was damning me for ruining his fun and I didn't feel bad about it because if I even _listened_ to his plans, I'd be sucked into it and you never wanted to be sucked into Stiles plans, because they almost always screwed you over.

3:1

We were engaged in a staring contest, the first one to look away first would lose and I would not lose, because then I would be forced to go _with_ him. Luckily, Stiles over-active mind decided it should definitely take a _little_ peek around me to do a quick sweep of my room.

"Hah!" I yelled in victory, pointing at him through the glass. His eyes narrow threateningly and if he wasn't so adorable I would be scared but being scared of Stiles Stilinski is like being scared of a newborn puppy.

"Okay LaRue, I've had enough, open the damn door." His eyebrows were moving up and down as he spoke, his arms were surprisingly by his sides. I expected flailing.

"Friends don't use each other's last names." I teased, because why not?

"Open the door, I'm freezing my ass off."

"It's summer." I start looking at my freshly painted nails. Dark nude, almost brown. Probably in preparation for my new obsessive habit of wearing beige lipstick everyday, but it just went so well with my hair. Made it pop. My Mom's knew me so well.

"Doesn't make it any less cold." He looked at me with his big puppy dog eyes while wrapping his arms around himself and giving an exaggerated shiver.

I'm ashamed to say, I caved. I know I'm a disgusting excuse for a human being. I can't even say no to a boy who broke my arm when we were eight. I should have hated him after that particular incident, but that was the event that actually made us friends. It was those god damn eyes. I should cut them out of his head.

I know I was staring a hole in his head but that's all I could do as the bastard stretched out on my bed like some fat cat.

"Stop thinking homicidal thoughts." He's some kind of mind reader, I know he is. This is just another reason to rip his eyes out. His casual attitude made me relax though, maybe he just came to hangout? To have some pre-sophomore year chat? A girl can hope.

"Speaking of homicide.." Dear lord, here it comes.

"Two joggers found a dead body in the woods."

"Have you been listening in on your Dad's phone calls again? Stiles we've talked about this." I sighed as he sat up on my bed. What scared me was that he was beginning to look excited again, and I just wanted to go to bed. I'd spent all day being poked and prodded, helping my Mom finish a client's wedding dress. I deserved sleep.

"Yeah, maybe a little." He waved off my concern, obviously not worried about potentially hearing something mentally scarring that will land him on Jerry Springer, like, I don't know; My Dad get's weird favours off my neighbours transvestite dog?

Woof woof.

"But anyway! Let's go?" He throws two thumbs over either shoulder and looks at me expectantly.

"No. And you said they found it, so there's no point." This has potential-slasher-movie written all over it anyways.

I will not become the blonde that runs _deeper_ into the woods away from the killer then, suddenly decides 'let's stop behind a tree' only to face to face with the killer when I take a look back, all the while I breathe like a fog horn. Let's face it, the blondes are always the first to go, even ones who had just recently returned to the lifestyle, such as myself.

"That's the best part! They only found one half!" He exclaimed. I let out a snort of disgust.

"Oh c'mon!" Ah, there's the flailing.

"No Stiles, have some respect for the dead."

"One half!" He shouted again. As if it was completely okay to find a dead body if it was only half. Besides, looking for a dead body? What were we? The remake of _Stand by me?_

"No, this is boy bonding time. Go ask Scott. Besides my Mom's will kill me if i ruin my nails. So it's a no go on wandering into the woods looking for a dead body, with blood, dirt, murderers and the rest of that fun stuff." Ah sarcasm, it really was the best defence.

"You're afraid of two tiny women, who wear matching sweaters at Christmas?"

"5'5 is tall." I grumbled.

"Compared to a little midget like you? Yeah I can see how you'd think that." Sarcasm made him a bastard, but it made me a slaying goddess.

"Shut up. Leave. Get Scott. Find your dead body. Tell me about it _tomorrow_."

"But!-" Again with the flailing.

"Stiles? _Please_?" I ask softly because the day was catching up with me and I still had a bad feeling over that damn story. I just wanted to sleep and forget it all.

"... _fine_." He pouted, then turned around to stalk towards the door.

"Ahem." He turned around and raised his eyebrows as if to say 'what?'.

I tilted my head, really? He's been sneaking in here since we were ten and he can't remember our tradition? Fuck you, Stiles Stilinski, you baby faced, plaid-wearing weirdo.

" _Ahem!_ "

" _Oh_...now I remember." He walks over and pulls me into his arms and I wrap myself around him like a koala. A little baby koala.

"Love you, S." I hear him sigh.

"Love you too, Ariel."

"And I really like the hair, I missed it." He ran his long fingers through my hair, I quickly grabbed them before he messed it up so much that I'd have to take another shower.

"Well you should, a whole summer of blonde roots and dye removing hell and this is the freshly dyed result." I was happy with it, but after two years of black hair, I missed it, but that was a given with any new hairstyle; regret.

"Can't you ever be humble?" He muttered good-naturedly, I pinched his arm in response, accidentally breathing in his cologne, and damn it smelt good.

"I'll tell you how it turns out tomorrow. It's gonna be awesome." He gave an excited fist pump, making me laugh.

He leaves after that and I go to bed with that feeling of dread still bubbling up inside of me.

Fucking werewolves….

* * *

I was having the worst back-to-school day in the history of ever.

My Mom's left early, leaving me to fend for myself.

On top of waking up late and having no time for breakfast, I had no one to give me a ride to school, Stiles wouldn't pick up his _god damned phone_ , so I had to take my skateboard. I was a little rusty so I may have stumbled every few blocks or so, and to make matters even _better:_ I looked ridiculous.

My hair was still wet from my shower, it would curl soon because _suprize_ , _suprize_ I didn't have time to flat iron it, the look could have been redeemed by my flowery sundress, but I had my paint-splattered art smock thrown over it and my dirty converse were doing me no favours.

If Stiles had picked me up, I would have been able to dry my hair and put on a bit of makeup to look at least presentable for my first day of sophomore year, so he better hope he was eaten by a werewolf in the woods last night.

When my school finally came into view, I let out a sigh of relief. I was panting, I felt sweaty and gross and I was pretty sure I wouldn't have time to go to my locker for first period, so imagine my surprise when I look at my watch to find that I have twenty minutes to spare.

"There she is!" An arm wraps around my shoulder and pulls me into said arm's pit. Stiles hands me a bottled water and an energy bar. When I look up at him in question, he just smirks.

"You do this every year. You set your alarm thirty minutes forward, forget, freak out, call me, get to school and I give you tools for your survival." He gestures toward the little care package he just supplied me with. I raise my eyebrow again.

"Not every-"

"Every year." He cuts me off guiding me toward the bike ramp, where Scott will be arriving any minute. I quickly kick up my skateboard and let him lead me.

"So how was body hunting last night?" Chomping down on my delicious nougat-infested breakfast.

"Dunno, I was only there for like five seconds, when a deputy caught me, Scott stayed though, said he got bit or something." He said casually, adjusting his bag higher on his back.

I slap him, hard.

"Ow!" He hisses, before turning questioning amber eyes toward me.

"You told me everything went fine last night! "Oh, yeah, me and Scott are fine, we ditched when we saw how dark it was, went home and played video games." I said taking on a deeper mocking voice.

"I texted you, we never spoke, and nothing major happened."

"What do you call Scott getting bitten by a rabie infected animal, Stiles?"

"Unlucky?" He shrugs.

I exhaled heavily in frustration, rolling my eyes heavenward, as if asking some deity to take pity on me and just put a bolt of lightening in Stiles ass to wake him up from whatever fantasy land he was living in.

"Well, are we talking mosquito bite or a bite as big as my hand?" I was worried, knowing Scott and Stiles they would ignore the problem until it went away; meaning they would just let nature do whatever the fuck it wanted with our best friends body and hope for the best. They wouldn't worry about disease or rabies, just slap a band-aid over it and let Jesus take the wheel.

"That doesn't really narrow down anything, your hands are tiny." I wouldn't take the bait, we needed to address this.

"Stiles, be serious for a minute."

"Look, all he said was he got bit, he didn't mention any leprechauns or beavers to me, okay? Be patient." I hated their attitude toward problems, it forced me to be the responsible one, the stick in the mud. A loud clatter brought my attention over to the carpark, where my other best friend was getting into it with Jackass Whittemore.

"-watch the paint job." Beacon's local douchebag sneered in my best friend's face. God I hate that guy.

One time, in sixth grade, when he asked me out and I said no, he spread around a rumour that I was a lesbian and everyone called me a dyke for _weeks_ , until Jackass' best friend Danny came out, then no one dared say anything _against_ the popular clique.

The slur didn't hurt or anything, I was raised by two Moms, what hurt was my classmates use of sexuality as a weapon, as if there was something wrong with me if I didn't conform to the _heterosexual way_ of thinking, because _god forbid_ someone _unpopular_ be gay. It's not like I'd suddenly hate boys, if I was gay, I'd just be attracted to my own sex. Anyway, I was ranting, but it just made me so _goddamn_ angry.

"'Kay!" Stiles voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Let's see this thing!" Not gonna lie, his excitement disturbed me, if this thing was bigger than a dime, I was dragging Scott's ass to the Nurse's office.

Scott carefully lifted his shirt, it had gauze around it, so I had hope that he properly cleaned the wound, but it looked like he needed to change it, judging by the blood stain leaking through.

"Ooh!" Stiles whispered in awe, staring at it like he wished he had one too.

"Does it hurt?" I demand, because when I worry, I go crazy mother hen on them and in this situation, I should definitely be worried. I slap Stiles hand away when he tries to touch it.

Scott shakes his head, rapidly pulling his shirt into place before I can even begin to ask to see the wound, which, I'm not gonna lie, worries me, how big was the thing that bit him?

"It was too dark to see much." Scott began as we made our way toward the front doors of the school. "But, I'm pretty sure it was a wolf."

Woah, the thing that bit him was big enough for him to mistake it for a wolf? Someone is definitely getting a tetanus shot.

"A _wolf_ bit you?"

Scott, the beautiful sap, just nodded quickly.

"No, not a chance."

"I heard a wolf howling." Scott smiled as if daring Stiles to contradict him again. Great, the bite caused him to have hallucinations. Stiles Stilinski and contradiction could be synonymous.

"No, you didn't."

"What do you mean no, I didn't? How do you know what I heard?"

"'Cause California doesn't have wolves, okay?. Not in like 60 years."

"Really?" Has he never read the pamphlet? I'd only shown it to him like two hundred times.

"Yup!" I chimed in. "It's in the 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' pamphlet with a lot of other facts on the area. Beacon Hills is also, like, the epicentre of Telluric currents too."

"Telli-what?" Scott asked, struggling to say the word.

""Extremely low currents of electricity that flow naturally through the earth and sea."" Yeah, I can quote the pamphlet, I kinda have to, being on the Welcoming Committee and all.

"Okay back to the point at hand. There are no wolves in California, Zero." Turning around to us, walking backwards and raising two of his gangly arms and making to O's with his fingers.

"Well if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not gonna believe me when I tell you I found the body." Our cute little puppy even smirked after he said it. Stiles was pulling him to the darkside.

"I-you're kidding, right?" Stiles was looking at Scott like he was some kind of god. Knowing he wasn't focused on his surroundings, I slyly passed him my skateboard, and he took it while he walked, totally unaware that I was using him as a mule. Sucker.

Scott caught it though, and let out a laugh. "No, man, I wish. I'm gonna have nightmares for a month."

Our spazzy friend was clearly having a meltdown. Eyes wide, jaw slack, dude, he was even _twitching_.

"Oh god, that is freakin' awesome. I mean, this is seriously the best thing that's happened to this town since- Since the birth of Lydia Martin." He trails off, staring off in a dazed manner at the red head coming our way.

This year I'm gonna get him someone to have sex with, because I'm sorry, buddy, but _that_ ain't happening.

Don't get me wrong, I was supportive, I've been practically singing _Don't Stop Believing_ since third grade, but the guy's ten year plan was coming to an end and he had zero results. There was only so much pining I could take.

"Hey Lydia- You look- Like you're gonna ignore me." He sighed good naturedly- probably expecting it-, before turning to us with an amused quirk of his eyebrow.

"You're the cause of this y'know." He said to Scott. He's lucky, if he'd been talking to _me_. His neck would be snapped.

"Uh-huh."

"Draggin' me down to your nerd depths. I'm a nerd by association. I've been scarlet-nerded by you, seriously the only thing keeping me afloat is our little blonde here." He sighed, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as we walked.

"Cheerleader, Class president, need I go on?" Stiles hand gestures were getting more and more windmill-ish as the years go on. If I didn't dodge ever so often, I would probably get hit in the face.

I was saved from replying by my phone buzzing.

 _New student. Please meet me at the front office. -Vice-Principal Carson._

It's still really weird to have the Vice-Principal text my phone, especially regarding new students, he always announces my accomplishments in front of them and the fact that my Mom's are gay, to show Beacon's "diversity" or something. It makes me wonder if that's why I was asked to lead the welcoming committee.

The past two years I wasn't picked to be introduced to new students, unless I happened to be wearing my cheer uniform or something less "goth". Just to clarify, I'm not goth, I have never been goth- Not that there's anything wrong with that- I just had a fondness for black over the past two years. Right before high school, I got my nosed pierced, and gradually I wore more and more black, I was still the same though, just with darker hair and clothes.

"Gotta go guys, see you later." I ran ahead to my locker. I got some strange looks for my dirty smock and converse, but I was used to it.

"Goodbye Midget!" I heard plaid-boy call out. I'd get him later.

A few dabs of concealer and a coat of lipgloss later and I entered the front office, smockless.

"Ah." Mr. Carson said exiting the Principal's office. "You must be the new student, Allison Argent, correct?" He beamed holding out his hand to me. Seriously? I've been on this committee for two years, what am I, invisible?

" , it's me, Ariel..LaRue? Last year I wore lots of black, my hair was black, a lot of teachers were concerned I was " _going down the wrong path_ "?" If this is going to happen all day, I will scream.

"Oh..Miss LaRue. I didn't recognise you for a moment. I apologise, shall we?" I'd clearly made him uncomfortable. Well sorry dude, I didn't realise you not recognising me would make you uncomfortable. I'll try to look more like myself next time.

We went outside to meet a pretty brunette. Aw, a fellow dimple buddy! Sweet.

"Hi, I'm Al-" She was adorable.

"Allison Argent, I know, welcome to Beacon, here's your official welcoming package: A pamphlet with interesting factoids on Beacon Hills, our history and recent events to get you up-to-date with the latest gossip, a map of the school, the schedule of the extracurricular activities we have on offer- I highlighted some that I think you would be interested, judging by your file, of course-, a pack of gum and I'm all out of the 'Go Cyclones' pens, but I can get you one of those at a later date." Handing her all of the items as I named them. Her eyes were wide as she stared at me, obviously overwhelmed at all the words flying out of my mouth. What could I say? I was dedicated.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. So you were saying San Francisco isn't where you grew up?" Mr. Carson questioned, ending the awkward stretch of silence. She broke off her staring to answer.

"No, but we lived there for more than a year, which is unusual in my family." Ouch, moving. Tough life for a kid.

Not that I knew, I moved _once_ , in third grade. I remember thinking my life was over, how I'd _never_ make friends and I'd die, a lonely old cat lady.

"Well, hopefully Beacon Hills will be your last stop for a while." Here it comes.

"This is your new class president, Ariel LaRue. She's on the honor role, is a member of the school paper, our cheerleading team, assists Coach Finstock with the boys lacrosse team and is an active member in our tutoring programme." There it is you smug bastard.

"I also run the Welcoming Committee." I say when I see her confused expression. Asshole, you should have led with that.

"Yes, well, I'll leave you to it, Miss LaRue." He walked away hurriedly. I turned back to Allison, I pluck her schedule out of her hand and compare it to my own on the front of my folder.

"Okay, so it says here that you have English with , lucky for you, I also have the same class. So if you need anything, at all. A guide, someone to sit with at lunch, a place to hide the body, I'm just a shout away." That effectively broke the tension, Snow White let out an adorable laugh.

"Oh, thank god, you're human. I was afraid you were one of those intense perfect robots. No offense." She backpedaled quickly, obviously worried she'd alienated her only acquaintance.

"Robot?" I mused, I wasn't that intense was I? Best not to dwell on that right now.

"No, but I have been compared to a blonde Rachel Berry." If she passed this test, she can be my new best friend. Screw Sciles.

"You put gold stars next to your name, while posting videos of yourself singing to Myspace everyday to keep your talent alive?" We both laughed at that.

"We are now best friends, just to give you warning, now off we trot to class." I knocked before entering ' class, he nodded, giving me the go ahead.

"Hey everyone, this is Allison Argent, she just transferred from San Francisco. Please make her feel welcome."

"Thank you Ariel, and welcome Miss Argent. Please take a seat, anywhere will do." I made my way toward Scott and Stiles, Allison following not far behind.

"Is that LaRue?" Yes, jerk off.

"Wow, what happened to her?" Hair dye, asshole.

"I'd tap that." Ew.

"Dude, you wish, besides, Stilinski's been tappin' that since freshman year." _This_ has not been tapped.

"Go Stilinski." Pervert.

I sat next to Stiles, giving him a quick smile before turning to page 133, of Kafka's metamorphosis, but not before catching Scott giving Allison a pen. Aww. I ship it.

* * *

"Please tell me the cute guy in English is not apart of the Welcoming Committee and he gave me that pen out of kindness." Allison begged, staring past me at; guess who? Scott. As in one of my best friends. Aww, at least one of them would get the girl.

Before I could respond, Satan's daughter sashayed up to us. Flowing red hair, perfect complexion and a killer fashion sense, Lydia Martin was _the_ girl, the one everyone of her sex strived to be. Except me of course, I loved who I was and I didn't want to be anyone but me.

"LaRue." She greeted me.

"Martin." I nodded. Lydia and I have a complicated relationship. When I first moved here in third grade, she told all the girl's that my name wasn't really Ariel and to ignore me. I was called 'Disney Freak' by all the girls until fifth grade, the guys just stuck with freak. Now she just ignores my existence, which I personally think is a stepping stone in our relationship.

Not wanting to be near her any longer than necessary I turned to back to Allison.

"Hey, I gotta go now, I'll see you later okay? This is Lydia, she'll take great care of you. Text me if you need anything! We'll talk about cute English guy later." She gave me a relieved sigh, obviously worried I'd never speak to her again after showing her around, which was common with other welcoming committee members, but me? I was like herpes.

I walked toward Stiles and Scott, smiling when I saw Jessica from my art class talking to them, she usually kept to herself.

"-and she's already hanging out with Lydia's clique?" Oh they're talking about Allison, maybe I could ask Scott's opinion on her now that the subject's out there?

"Because she's hot. Beautiful people herd together." Stiles said. Don't say that in front of the insecure girl! Jessica has enough self-image issues as it is.

"Which is why I hang out with you three beautiful people." I say making my way into their group with a smile. Jessica's smile at my calling them beautiful makes me warm inside. She deserves it.

"How's the side, champ? Any nausea, dizziness or blurred vision?" Gesturing toward his side. He shakes his head, maybe we got lucky and it's not infected.

"Okay people, lacrosse tryouts are on in t-minus twenty minutes, let's go! And Scott, be careful please!" I say goodbye to Jessica, promising to call her later, before making my way to the lacrosse field.

* * *

"-No one to talk to on the bench, but Ariel, and all she does is shout abuse at the opposing team. It's not even amusing most of the time, it's just gets dark and a little scary. Are you really gonna do that to your best friend?" Stiles says coming toward the bench in full gear. I'm a little hurt that he doesn't find me entertaining enough to last a lacrosse game, and the 'abuse' is just healthy encouragement for our team, and Coach does it too.

"I can't sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This year I make first line." You will buddy, even if I have to alter your scores.

I sat next to Stiles on the bench, hope I don't _scare_ him.

"They have a suspect in custody for the girl that was murdered." Stiles is like; my version of Philip DeFranco in Beacon Hills, giving me the news as soon as it's known.

"Really? Who?" Would that sicko be brought to justice?

"I don't know, I just heard in from in English, when I find out, you'll be the first to know."

"Hey Blondie! What are you doin' on my bench!" Wow Coach, how about coming _across_ the field before asking questions?

"It's pronounced LaRue, Coach, and I help run this team!" I shouted back just as loud.

"LaRue? Did you get a head transplant?" I ignored him, preferring to watch the first round of tryouts and keep record of their stats. Beside names I wrote short notes for coach to read for when he picked first line.

 _Jackass Whittemore. As talented as last year- Is still a gigantic douche-nut._

 _Danny Máhealani - Still an amazing goalie, a real sweetheart, great team player and has an amazing torso, get him on your team coach or I'll_ _force_ _him on mine. ;)_

"McCall, you're in goal!" My neck nearly snapped, I looked up so fast. I helped Scott practice all summer, but we didn't cover the goalie position, we didn't need to, Danny always got goal.

"I've never played." Poor Scott, he wanted to make a good first impression, not make a fool of himself, especially in front of the new girl, and Allison was sitting up there with Lydia watching him.

"I know- scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It's a first day back thing. Get 'em energised, fired up!" What about Scott's confidence? The Guy was running on empty.

"What about me?" My poor puppy.

"Yeah, Coach, I've been helping him on his technique all summer, he's really good." Scott sent a smile my way for my help.

"Stay out of this LaRue, we've still gotta talk about this little Hannah Montana act you're pulling right now. McCall, let's go, c'mon, quit whining and try not to take it to the face." And with those strong words of encouragement, Bobby Finstock left the building.

"Why didn't you help me this summer?" Not the time Stiles.

"You need more than a summer Stiles, and Scott really wanted this, he had a positive attitude throughout, whereas you would have given up a few practices in to go play video games."

"I resent that."

"But you know it's true." I watch Scott get in goal, he glances over at Allison, he's probably really conscious with her watching.

The whistle blows, announcing the start of tryouts and Scott- Scott freaks out, holding his head and gasping. It doesn't look like a panic attack. I see Stiles hand tighten on Scott's inhaler, just in case.

When he freaks out, it gives Greenberg the perfect opportunity to sock him in the head with the ball, knocking him back into the goal. Looks like we weren't the only ones practicing this summer.

I wince as everyone laughs, I look back to see if Allison is too. She isn't which means Scott still has a shot.

"Hey, way to catch with your face, McCall!" Jackass yells over the laughter.

"Wow, did you come up with that yourself, Whittemore or did you steal it off a Snapple cap?" I shout at him. His face takes an angry red tinge and he analyzes me, trying to figure out who I was and why I thought I had the _right_ to insult _the Jackson Whittemore._

Another player prepares to throw, and Scott surprises everyone by catching it. Wow, he must have been practicing with Stiles too.

"Yeah!" Stiles says after a moment of staring. Don't look so shocked dude.

After catching the first ball, Scott was on a role, catching every shot thrown at him. He's amazing, I knew he was good, but I never thought…

It seems I wasn't the only one shocked by Scott's new found talent, because the anger I'm seeing on Princess Whittemore's face is comical.

Jackass pushes to the front of the line, readies himself and pumps his skinny little chicken legs as fast as they can go towards the goal.

I watch the ball, it seems to go slower and slower as more time passes, and it goes…

Right into Scott's net.

I stand up cheering at the same time as Stiles, except I go for 'Go Scott!", while Stiles has a spaz attack and starts screaming 'AHHHH, That is _my_ Friend!'.

He's such a dork, he's lucky he's pretty.

* * *

"I don't- I don't know what it was. It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And that's not the only weird thing. I- I can- hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear. Smell things." Scott says, stumbling over another vicious gnarled root. Why can't he just get a new inhaler? My shoes won't come back from this.

"Smell things?" I feel my face twist in disgust as I say the words. Who would want _that_ super power? It sucks.

"Like what?" Stiles questions, brushing branches out of his face awkwardly.

"Like the mint-mojito gum in your pocket." Stiles squints in confusion.

"I don't even have any mint-mojito.." He trails off taking out a strip from his breast pocket. I pluck it from his hands before he can protest, shedding it of its wrappings and putting it in my mouth.

"Please and thank you." Stiles stares at me for a second before going back to the topic at hand.

"So all this started with a bite?" He stumbled over a few rocks trying to catch up to Scott, while I strolled behind them, keeping myself within hearing distance.

"What if it's like an infection, like, my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?" At least I'm not the only one worried about the bite. I thought of the story I wrote last night again, this situation seemed familiar; boy alone in the woods, attacked by a wolf-like individual and bitten. I was putting pieces together of a puzzle that wasn't there,right?

"You know what? I actually think I've heard of this- it's a specific kind of infection." Please don't quote anything from google, that shit always ends up scaring the crap out of the person with the 'symptoms'.

"Are you serious?" His face showing fear. Stiles smiles, he _fucking smiles_.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it's called- lycanthropy." Why did that sound so familiar? Oh shit, if I recognised it, it might actually be a real thing.

"What's that? Is it bad?" I wanted them to stop talking, they were freaking me out.

"Mmm-hmm, On the night of the full moon." Wait a minute. Just as my mind came to a conclusion, the annoying fucker, also known as Stiles, _howls_.

"That's not funny." I shriek, because what if Scott _died_ from this, all because I let him convince me not to drag him to the hospital?

"Yeah, dude, there could be something seriously wrong with me!" But Stiles grin didn't falter once.

"I know! You're a werewolf! Rrrrr! Okay, obviously I'm kidding," He concedes when he sees the murderous look on my face.

"You better be." I growl.

"But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it's 'cause Friday's a full moon." I slapped him as Scott starts to rummage through the leaves on the ground.

"No- I could have sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler-"

"Deer?" I almost choke on my own tongue, this isn't just a coincidence,is it?

"Yeah, a whole herd of them." I'm quiet after that, my mind going a thousand miles a minute. Did I predict a series of events last night, that actually came true? Was I psychic?

Holy shit.

"Maybe the killer moved the body." I heard. The killer. If what I wrote last night was true, did Scott get bitten by a werewolf?

"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler, those things are like 80 bucks."

"How do you know the killer was a man, it could have easily been a woman." I hear myself say in a monotone.

"Because the girl was gutted and left in pieces, let's face it, it takes a man to do something like that." Stiles said confidently.

"With a bit of adrenaline and a carving knife, I'm pretty sure I could do it!" I retort angrily, because what kind of sexist bullshit was that?

"What are you doing here? Huh? This is private property." A new voice cut into our argument. I swing my head around to face the owner.

Tall, deathly pale, and creepy would be correct adjectives to describe the guy glaring at us from across the clearing, but that description wasn't _completely_ accurate because he's hot. Like, extremely so, I mean _damn_.

"Uh sorry man, we didn't know." Stiles says, pushing me behind himself.

"Yeah, we were just looking for something, but- Uh, forget it." Scott explains before, creepy hot dude throws something toward him.

"Uhm. All right, c'mon guys, I gotta get to work." He says tucking away the thing creepy dude just threw at him, I get a look at it before Scott puts it in his pocket.

His inhaler.

What if creepy hot dude's the killer? Oh my god, this is _his_ property, the place where Scott was attacked, this is _where_ he found the dead body- _Where the freakin' werewolf attacked him!_

"Let's get out of here." I whisper as quiet as possible to both of them. Creepy dudes eyes look right at me.

' _I can- hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear.'_ Scott's voice replayed in my head.

OH MY GOD, I WAS _RIGHT_! CREEPY DUDE IS A _WEREWOLF_. HE KILLED THE GIRL AND _BIT_ SCOTT!

I was five seconds away from hyperventilating. _Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…_

"Guys, that was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He's only like a few years older than us." I look where creepy dude just was and see he's gone, no sign of him even being there.

"Remember what?" I ask. I don't remember any Hale family in Beacon Hills, if Stiles remembered them, that means they lived in the area, I'm usually really good with remembering names..

"You probably don't remember, Ariel, it happened just before you moved here. His family. They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago."

"I wonder what he's doing back." _Murdering people and turning my best friends into werewolves_. I thought to myself.

"C'mon, A, we're leaving." Stiles grabs me by the arm and leads me back the way we came, but all I can do is stare at the spot 'Derek' just occupied.

Please let me be crazy.

* * *

When I get home, I break out my laptop and google all types of things, from 'The Hale fire, Beacon Hills, CA' to 'Beacon County animal attacks', nothing I find assures me in any way that I'm wrong.

The Hale fire was believed to be caused by _arsonists_. No arrests were ever made and not one single person brought in for questioning. A lot of the details of the investigation seem shady too.

The most recent animal attack was a deer, found dead near the preserve with a bloody spiral on it's stomach, it's an ongoing investigation because it's believed to be the work of _satanic cult_ _followers_.

When I type 'Werewolf+Spiral' into the search engine, after going through pages and pages of Twilight fanfiction, I find out that, according to legend, werewolves only use the spiral when proclaiming a _vendetta_. Who else could have a vendetta against Beacon Hills, but the guy who's family was murdered and the killer is still on the loose? Creepy, hot dude _AKA_ Derek Hale.

The only thing that stopped my obsessive researching was a text from Allison;

' _Hey Ariel, it's Allison, cute english guy - Scott-, just asked me out to the party on friday! Can you believe it? All it took was my running over a poor defenseless dog and freaking out like a complete girl! It was really embarrassing. Help me prep? I'm kinda freaking out.'_ I feel like there's a story here.

So I spent the rest of that night talking to Allison, about what she should wear and what Scott was like, eccetera eccetera, I'd never felt more like a girl in my life. It felt kinda nice.

The rest of the week flies by, my suspicions lessen somewhat, but I'm still on my guard for creepy hot dude and before I know it, it's Friday, the second elimination round.

I can't wait for tryouts to be over already, I've been getting dirty looks all week from the people who didn't make it past the first. Bite me, assholes.

I haven't mentioned anything to Scott or Stiles about my little investigation yet, because I want to make sure I have proof before I go off spouting about werewolves and vendetta's.

I also keep chickening out anytime I try bring it up.

"Just hold on, okay? I overheard my dad on the phone. The fiber analysis came back from the lab in LA. They found animal hairs on the body from the woods!" I overhear from beside me, I raise my head from my clipboard to see Stiles flailing arms and Scott's exasperated face.

"Stiles, I gotta go." Jeez, what's up his ass? Doesn't he have a date with Allison today? He should not be in a bad mood, his little ass should be doing flips.

"Wait, no! Scott, you're not gonna believe what the animal was!" He say hurriedly, but Scott was already across the field. "It was a wolf." He finishes dejectedly. I gasp out loud.

"A wolf? That's impossible, there are no wolves in California. Are there?" Maybe I needed to update those pamphlets. Stiles looks at me with a smile, obviously happy at least one of his friends were listening to him, I return it weakly, it was another piece of proof if I ever saw one.

"No you're still right on that score. I'll tell you what else I found last night after practice." The brown eyed boy sighed, grudgingly making his way over to the circle of boys in the middle of the field. I picked up my clipboard and followed suit. Time to forget about werewolves and just focus on being a happy bobble-head teenage girl with no problems in her perfect little world.

I stand next to Coach in my own wine jersey, pressing my clipboard against my chest when I see some of the players trying to peek at the score sheets over my shoulder. Pathetic.

"-McCall?" Coach's voice brings my attention back to our little powwow.

"W-what?" He stutters, I follow his previous line of sight and land on Allison. They had it _bad_ , but it was losing it's cuteness as the days wore on.

"You raised your hand. You have a question?" Coach gets his 'crazy look' on his face and I see the vein in his neck throbbing. No grown man as old as he is, should get this excited about high school lacrosse.

"No, I was just, uh- Nothing, sorry." He says meekly, embarrassed to have all eyes on him.

"Okay. You know how this goes." Coach begins. I've always loved his speeches, they really pumped people up for games, hell they always made me a psycho fan around game week.

"If you don't make the cut, you're most likely sitting on the bench for the rest of the season. You make the cut- you play. Your parents are proud. Your girlfriend loves yah!" He screamed in some players face, grabbing his helmet and shaking it excitedly, like a toddler who just got something shiny.

"Huh? Everything else is, uh, cream cheese. You've gotta impress me!" He points to himself. "And you gotta impress, LaRue!" He points to me, causing all heads to turn toward me in sync. Creepy.

"That's right! Your position on this team relies on impressing that little blonde girl over there! And Stilinski! Don't think you'll get any special treatment because you two play hank panky! Now, get out there and show me whatcha got! Come on!" All the team cheered loudly, raising their sticks in the air like cavemen who just created fire.

I made eye contact with Stiles, seeing that he was just as annoyed at the insinuation that we were a couple too. I knew Stiles didn't have those feelings for me, I mean we loved each other dearly, but we weren't _in love_ with each other. His heart belonged to Lydia and I'm not mature enough to share myself like that with another human being, _at all_.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Who died and made you army general, Jackass?

Stiles walked toward the bench and Scott took his position on the field. I stood by Coach, clipboard at the ready. Bring it bitches.

My heart skips a beat at the shrill sound of Coaches whistle. _God_ , I love lacrosse season!

Scott goes running for the ball, he gets it-

 _Ooooooh that's gotta hurt_ I wince as Jackass completely floors Scott into the ground.

The whistle blows again, signaling the start of another round, Scott and Jackass bend down, sticks at the ready, _weeeeeeeeee_ the whistle chirps.

Scott takes the ball and runs, he dodges Parker, slides by Jenson, skips past Reid, twists around Evans _and fucking flips, over Adrian, Davis and Bernard._ He shoots;

HE FUCKING SCORES! WOOO WOOO, BITCHES, TAKE THAT!

It's when I see Coach's disturbed expression, that I realise I was pretty much narrating and screaming the whole play. Maybe Stiles is right, maybe I _am_ scary…

The cheering is thunderous, it's so loud, I'm sure it will result in a headache later.

"McCall! Get over here! What in God's name was that? This is a lacrosse field. What, are you trying out for the gymnastics team?" If Scott doesn't make the lacrosse team, maybe I could get him to try out for cheerleading, we could use some more muscle, the girls couldn't really throw that high.

"No Coach." He says quickly, already jumping to the conclusion that he's in trouble. Oh sweet, sweet Scott, No honey, this is a good thing.

"What the hell was that?" Coach says again in the same tone of voice. To the untrained ear, it probably sounds like Coach is angry, but he couldn't be farer from angry right now.

"I don't know. I- I was just trying to make the shot."

"Yeah, well, you made the shot. And guess what? You're startin', buddy. You made first line! C'mon!" Coach roars in elation and the crowd follows suit, obviously overhearing the conversation.

That's when everything floods back to me; Werewolves, vendetta, creepy, hot guy, Scott getting bitten. Oh shit, I have to mention it now. Okay, after school, I'll get all my research and show them.

It's time to tell him.

It's time to tell Scott that he's a werewolf.

* * *

I throw everything I'll need into my messenger bag; accident reports, the insurance documents for the Hale house, the crime scene photos of the deer, literally everything I printed or wrote down from the internet about werewolves. I had an urge to bring my sketchpad and charcoal, so I threw those in too. I'm about to call Scott, when I see a message from Stiles;

 _WE ARE AT DEFCON 1. Meet at my house ASAP! The joke is not a joke anymore. -Stiles_

Stiles' house it is.

I'm at the door and I reach for my skateboard, where it _always_ is, but I grab air. Stiles still has it, I never got it back on Wednesday.

So I run, as fast as my shitty converse will get me, I run.

All the way to the Stilinski house.

All. Twenty. Blocks.

I'm out of breath when I get there, I'm pretty sure if I didn't jog and do yoga everyday, I would be coughing up a lung right now, I bust through the door and jog my way up the stairs, I make it up to Stiles room, just as Scott is leaving.

He looks shocked and freaked out, he flinches when I reach out to him, he just keeps muttering 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..'.

When I see Stiles, I understand. He's kinda just staring at the air in front of him in shock.

"So..you figured it out too." Based solely on the papers scattered across his floor similar to my own, I'm assuming my statement is correct.

"That Scott is a werewolf? Yeah, I researched all night last night and I'm probably overdosing on Adderall right now." He murmured still admiring the air in front of him.

"And you only brought it up because of his performance at tryouts only confirmed it, right?" He nodded, blinking like he'd just ate five pot brownies.

"Well, then I guess I don't need to brief you on what we're up against."

"No, but tonight's the full moon, did you know that?" No, I did not.

Did I seriously spend all week researching _werewolves_ but neglect the lunar schedule? I think I got dumber with this change of hair colour.

"Stiles. Pull yourself together. We're going to that party."

Stiles nods, but his zombie behaviour doesn't change.

I take a seat on his bed, pulling my sketchpad and charcoal out to keep me occupied, Stiles shuffling in the background.

I look up when he clears his throat. Now wearing a dress shirt, tie and blazer, Stiles looks as cute as a button and I repeat those words to him.

"Uh, just what every guy wants to hear before they go to their crushes house, they look cute." He snorts, brushing at his non-existent hair.

"What are you drawing?- Wow, looks like you're still our very own Wednesday Addams." I take a look, a real look at what I just spent ten minutes slaving over.

Black scribbles cover the once pristine white page, the edges a dark grey from my hands smudging the charcoal accidentally. The only colour on the page are the two soft scarlet ovals near the middle of the page. _What a waste of paper_ I think putting it back in my bag.

"Let's go." I mutter making a beeline out of the door.

We had to make sure Scott was okay.

* * *

When we get there, the party's in full swing; groping, drinking and any other teenage misdemeanour you could think of, this party had it.

Stiles and I join in on a conversation with other lacrosse players, but we keep an eye on Scott, who is happily dancing with Allison, no wolf features in sight. Everything seemed to be going great.

That's when I saw him.

Creepy dude was standing by the fire.

"I'll be right back." I tell Stiles, he nods, laughing at a joke some guy just said.

I walk around the pool, ready to give him a piece of my mind for stalking Scott, when I'm accosted by Greenberg.

"Hey, why didn't _I_ get first line?" He slurs angrily.

"Coach didn't want you on his team, I'm sorry, Greenberg, now move."

"Well we can't all have our whore on the judges panel like, McCall and Stilinski, can we?" He hisses, eyes flashing angrily.

"You'd be lucky for a hooker to touch you, much less a willing girl, now move, asshole!"

"You need to cool off you mouthy little slut." He stumbles before pushing me in the pool, messenger bag and all.

I wouldn't sweat it as much if I could fucking swim.

I float toward the bottom in a daze, before I thrash and kick, like my life depends on it, which it does, but the more I kick, the farer away the surface seems to get. My bag weighs me down, but I don't have the strength to lift it off of me.

My lungs starts to burn and my vision begins to blur, that's when something weird happens.

My hands change to smaller, stubbier versions of themselves, my vision clears as a couple appears near me. They don't reach out to help, instead the girl puts her hand down the guy's boardshorts. _I was going to die, all because_ he _let these assholes drink too much_ I think angrily.

Wait.

Who was he?

Then I am abruptly dragged to the surface, I come face to face with creepy hot dude. _What kind of little bastard, doesn't know how to swim!?_ Echoes through my head. What?

Creepy dude stares at me for a moment before turning around, making his way toward the gates. Nobody notices our exchange; they're all too drunk and with the volume of the music, they probably didn't even hear the sound of the splash.

He saved me…..

If he didn't, I'd probably be dead.

Maybe I should start calling him Derek.

Deciding I've had enough of the party scene for the night, I go out to Stiles jeep. I sit in the back, so I don't get his seats wet.

I pass the time by checking on the stuff in my bag; all of my research is ruined, as is my phone and sketchpad.

Luckily the sketchpad was new, only my pathetic drawing from earlier belongs to its pages. I flip it open; the charcoal has seeped onto other pages, leaving the once pitch black sheet, a washed out grey, the red eyes look untouched except for a bit of smudging around the corners.

I swipe my fingers across it, wiping stray tear drops of water away, I repeat for a few minutes before I realise I'm making something out with my fingers.

My breath hitches, I feel my eyes widen significantly,

Now starring up at me from the page is an angry, half-wolf man, he looks more animalistic than man. Red eyes staring into my very soul, fangs salivating, it's fur wild and in tangles.

I look up at the sound of car wheels squealing. Scott's car.

I'm saved from running back into the party by Stiles running outside like a bat outta hell. He jumped into the front seat, then screamed when he saw my shivering frame in the backseat.

"What happened to you?" He questions when he recovers.

"A bone-head lacrosse player thought I needed to cool down." I shiver, looking in the mirror, I see my lips turning blue.

"There's a spare shirt and gym shorts in my lacrosse bag, put 'em on." Stiles orders pulling away from the curb, I take one last look at the house and catch a glimpse of Allison getting into a camaro; at least she had someone to take her home. How was Scott gonna explain himself out of this one?

"D-do you have anything for me to semi-dry myself?" My teeth were chattering so hard I could barely hear myself think.

"Um, sorry no, but there's a spare blanket under the seat."

Knowing that was the best I was gonna get I conceded.

"Who do we know that drives a camaro?" I ask, peeling my dress from my body. Stiles respectively, keeps his eyes on the road.

"Derek Hale- I think. Why do you ask?" My stomach drops out my ass. The guy may have saved me, but he was still really shady. What could he want with Allison?

"Because I just saw Allison get into a black camaro." I am freaking out now. I can't even text her on my phone, because of the water damage and I can't remember her number to call from Stiles' phone.

Hasn't she ever heard of stranger danger?

"Hey not that you don't look good, but can you please put some clothes on?" Wow, I've been sitting in the back of my best friends jeep for the past few minutes in wet underwear.

I reach for his gym bag over the seat, probably giving him a good luck at my boobs.

"The lines of this friendship are being blurred right now and I'm not comfortable with it." Stiles shake his head, as if to rid himself of the absolute _horrid_ image of my half-naked form.

"Hey, at least now you can say you've had a naked girl back here." I bend down behind the seats to remove my soaking wet bra and quickly pull on Stiles' t-shirt.

"Yeah, my best friend, that'll impress people." He exclaims sarcastically.

"Wow, what are you trying to say Stilinski?" I debate whether or not to go commando underneath the gym shorts. I mean the dampness will just seep through, but it's weird to be naked under my best friends shorts, right?

"Nothing, you're very attractive, now let's go find where Allison lives, and hope to god that Derek didn't eat her." Comforting Stiles.

We eventually find out where the Argents live via Facebook. That site is like, the perfect place for stalkers to get their information.

I finish changing out of my wet panties while Stiles finds out if Allison made it home safe. The feel of cotton against my ass is glorious. I throw the rest of my wet clothes at my feet, deciding to collect them later.

Stiles runs back to the jeep, his steps aren't frantic, so I assume she's safe. Good, another point for Derek.

"She's good." He panted, breathlessly. "Now let's go find our furry friend."

He starts the jeep again and we patrol all the roads around the woods. There is surprisingly a lot of them.

We make small talk until around 3am when I fall asleep, blanket wrapped around me and drool possibly leaking from the corner of my mouth onto Stiles window, but I don't care, I had a near death experience tonight, I deserved sleep.

I'm woken up by sunlight and the sound of the jeep door slamming shut. I open my eyes to see Scott's tired face staring at me.

"Hey." I whisper quietly. "You, okay?"

"Yeah, little freaked out, but I'll live."

"Good." I yawn again, sluggishly rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Me and sleepy back there have been looking for you all night,buddy." Stiles says, reaching back to pat my knee.

"Have you slept at all?" Scott asks him, looking guilty. I offered to take over, but since I don't 'technically' have a driver's license, I'm unfit to drive his precious Roscoe.

"Sleep is for the weak. Ask Wednesday back there, who purrs in her sleep." I felt my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Okay, I've been told more than once that I _do_ purr in my sleep, by Scott and Stiles both, but I thought they forgot about it.

"You know what asshole? That's better than talking dirty in my sleep." There are some things that thirteen year old me will never be able to unhear.

"That was _one time_! Let it go!" He shrieks, but I see a red flush travelling across his neck.

"Okay guys, calm down." We were silent for a while after that, but I still made eye contact with Stiles angrily in the rear view mirror.

"You know what actually worries me the most?" Scott said breaking the silence a few minutes into the drive.

"If you say Allison, I'm gonna punch you in the throat." I mumble sleepily.

"I agree with the Omen, there are bigger things afoot, dude." I ignored his comment, preferring to listen to Scott instead.

"She probably hates me now." He groaned.

Stiles groaned like he was annoyed. "Ugh. I doubt that. But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology."

"Yeah, do that cute charm thing you do. Y'know where you're witty and cute. Ooooh get her flowers- Wait, don't, that's too overused.." I ramble, because what do I know about talking to guys? Nothing.

"Or-" Stiles interrupts before I can speak again.

"Or- And this is just a suggestion- you could just- I don't know- Tell her the truth? Revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you're a fricken' werewolf!" He earned a smack in the head for his idiocy.

"Ow, okay, bad idea." He conceded, rubbing the crown of his head.

"Hey." He said noticing Scott's face. "We'll get through this. Hey if I have to, I'll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I could do it, I had a boa once."

"That boa died Stiles." Because that wasn't reassuring at all, he killed that pet by over feeding it. I wouldn't let him do that to Scott too.

"Listen here Marilyn Manson, you need to pick your moments, because this moment? This was a bro moment, where we were all suppose to fist bump in the air, freeze, and stay that way until the non-existent screen faded to black. So thanks, thanks for ruining a perfectly choreographed cinematic moment!" He said it with such seriousness that I burst into uncontrollable laughter, Scott joining not far behind.

It was good to hear him laugh.

We didn't say much after that, we just revelled in the silence.

It was nice.

Some part of me knew that we wouldn't get moments like these any time in the near future.

Because Scott was now a member of the supernatural.

And something was coming after him, and by extension, us.

* * *

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 **The actress I have in mind for Ariel is Sasha Pieterse. Ariel's goth look is her in** _ **Good Luck Chuck**_ **and her look now is her look in** _ **Geek Charming.**_

 **-Irelandlover**


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